


Hand in Unlovable Hand

by KaiserJo



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, John and friends are thrown into a maze runner rip off, Memory Loss, Mysterious doctors and secret experiments, Typical YA setting, YA is coming back and this time we're perfecting it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserJo/pseuds/KaiserJo
Summary: At age thirteen, John Gaius wakes up with no memory of his past, in a mysterious school known only as 'The Institute'. He and the other fifteen students are being raised to control extraordinary abilities. When students begin to disappear without explanation, however, John and his companions begin to realise that not all is as it seems.
Kudos: 1





	Hand in Unlovable Hand

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: After a friend and I watched nearly every ‘young-adult’ movie released in the 2010s, I have reached some conclusions about the genre. The term ‘young-adult’ is firstly a misnomer, identifying the genre by its target market, and thus reducing it to the value it produces as marketable product. It would be better, then, for us to understand the genre from the perspective of the writer. These are not teenagers like their protagonists, but adults, looking back on their teenage years through a fictionalised lens.

John’s waking was slow and reluctant. For what seemed like hours he rolled between dreams and hazy consciousness. What did he dream of? It was hard to say. He saw the faces of men, women, children, doctors and teachers, monsters and insects, and the dark. His dreaming brain knew these people were supposed to mean something to him, even when stripped entirely of memory and meaning. Each dream brought new sensations—deep love, ecstatic joy, or crippling fear. And each, upon waking, was lost. John was returned to his warm blankets, left to turn into the pillows and yet another dream.

Eventually John’s body decided he would have to remain conscious for more than fifteen minutes. Opening his eyes, he encountered the room around him in earnest for the first time. This awakening of course ushered in the disorientation and confusion. This was not a room he’d ever been in before, that he remembered. It was bright—dull sunlight glowed through thin curtains. It wasn’t large—barely enough room for John to swing his arms, should he be inclined to. It was furnished, though without effort. There was a dresser with a mirror, a wardrobe and a desk. The room resembled any school dormitory, or particularly lush prison. Not that he'd had ever been in either.

John wasn’t the slightest bit inclined to leave the warmth of the bed, so lay there, attempting to mentally place himself and his surroundings. Memory is something he’d apparently taken for granted. Knowing absolutely nothing about himself, his past, or his location gave his brain very little to do. He was stuck chasing the same deductive loops around his skull—he had no memory of his own life, but certainly remembered other facts. He could speak, for instance, and he remembered his name. He could also recall some assorted trivia about ancient Greece, which he’d probably learnt in some now-obliterated school.

This was how the knock at the door found him. He jumped, and his heart began to pound. Of course he’d realised that someone must of put him in this room, and that they’d come back for him eventually. Experiencing this scenario was a lot more nerve racking. Should he tell the person to enter? That was a little presumptuous, given that it certainly wasn’t his room. When a second knock came he realised that presumptuous or not, the person outside was waiting to be permitted entry. He spoke in a surprisingly high pitched voice, and the stranger entered.

It was a man in a white coat. He had a slim face with a high forehead, and soft, grey eyes. His hair was brown flecked with grey, and he wore a black shirt and black trousers beneath his lab coat. He looked at John and smiled gently. When he spoke, he seemed so kind, as if he cared deeply for John, or was concerned for his health. 

“Good morning John, how are you feeling?”

John cast his mind about to think of an answer.

“I’m feeling fine. Where am I?”

The man walked a little further into the room, and pulled the chair away from the desk. He took a seat by John’s bedside, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Now to answer that properly, I’m going to have to explain a lot, including that there are some things I can’t explain. Not all of this may make sense at first, but you’ll soon understand.”

John nodded, and the man took a deep breath before continuing.

“My name, is Dr. James Rosemary. I am the director of the Institute, which is where we are now. Your name is John Gaius. You are thirteen years old. You have just been subject to an essential medical procedure, the side effect of which is the loss of personal memories up to that point. The procedure was necessary because you are a very special person, John. Special in ways we are only beginning to understand. You have incredible gifts that need to be protected and nurtured. This is why you are here, and why you remember nothing of your past. We have reason to believe that, following the procedure, recalling memories of your past will harm you, perhaps lethally. Out of caution I am unable to answer any questions about that topic. In a moment you will be taken to meet your classmates. There are fifteen other boys and girls just like you, and I’m sure you’ll find some friends. Before we head there, any questions?”

John swallowed. Apparently his newly-emptied brain was eager to create some new memories, otherwise he wouldn’t have remembered half of what Dr. Rosemary had said. 

“What gifts?” He finally got out.

“That’s what the Institute is trying to discover. Due to your particular bio-chemistry, you seem to have a degree of telepathic control over organic matter”.

John was understandably stunned by this proclamation.

“Don’t try to use your power right now, though”. Dr. Rosemary continued. “Subjects rarely display any meaningful control before proper training. And this is a power you’ll need to treat with incredible caution. More will be explained in your classes”.

“Subjects?”

Dr. Rosemary looked sheepish, and worried his temple with his thumb. 

“Apologies, students, I should say. After writing so many reports my brain sometimes slips”.

“So you’re studying us as well?”

“Naturally, we want to help you develop and control your gifts. If you’re worried about privacy, though, I can assure you all data is thoroughly anonymised”. 

“The Institute of What?”.

“Pardon?”

“Usually when something starts with ‘The Institute’, its followed by ‘of blah blah blah’”.

This drew a grin from Dr. Rosemary.

“Usually, but not when they’re this important”.

With this, the doctor stood, wheeling the chair back under the desk.

“Its time for breakfast, John. There are some clothes in the wardrobe, shall we go and meet your classmates?”

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is boring I admit it, hopefully I'll actually update this one regularly. Expect more interesting writing to come.


End file.
